


Candy from Strangers

by occasional_boy_reporter



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Sexual Wordplay, CAndal, Casual Sex, Guardian Culture, M/M, Sexual Culture, Sexual Proposition, Such cheese, Young Cayde and Mentor Andal, does not contain actual sex, sexual negotiation, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 02:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/occasional_boy_reporter/pseuds/occasional_boy_reporter
Summary: A young Cayde-6 and his mentor Andal discuss one of the more flavorful aspects of Guardian culture.





	Candy from Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know. Other things to finish but distractions are good too. And I really wanted to get some Cayde/Andal stuff out there. Pairing name is CAndle, btw, let's make it a thing. XD
> 
> Fic idea sparked by Splendor 2.6 text during Destiny's Crucible buff hype pre-Rise of Iron. But obviously warped to this author's twisted humor and tastes.
> 
> [Records of the Vanguard, OS-I6 1  
> CY6: I don't see the harm in it. A little mysterious fun, some ka-ching to our usual pew-pew. Didn't you take candy from strangers, when you were newborn in the Light?  
> ZAV: No. I did not.  
> IR: This isn't candy, Cayde. The Owl Sector reports a highly contagious armor systems override. If you'd stop clowning for a moment and think— ]

 

   Two glasses come to rest with a startling clunk atop the cramped and pitted tabletop- one glass full of a dull amber-colored liquid with two jagged cubes of ice and the other being a much more vibrant verdigris that casts its own glow on the greasy wood below.

   “Thanks,” Cayde nods as he reaches for the neon concoction obviously meant for him while his companion takes a seat. “How much?”

   “Naw.” A dark hand waves away the offer of payment. It's rare to see the calloused flesh free of protective gloves but Andal's got this thing about booze being at a certain temperature which always means a bare hand on his glass. “Don’t worry about it. This is my treat, Rookie.”

    Even though the smile is friendly and the eyes are warm, and even though Cayde-6 rather enjoys Andal Brask’s company, the continued use of the nickname grates against Cayde’s ego. He may not be as old as the senior Hunter but he wasn't exactly resurrected yesterday.

   “How long you gonna call me that?” Cayde grouses.

   Andal’s brow hikes in surprise before his gaze drifts to the ceiling in an exaggerated effort to remember.“How long have I been mentoring you?”

   “Four months,” Cayde supplies petulantly before kicking back half his drink.

   And what a four months it’s been. That’s official time, of course. Four months since he joined up proper with Andal’s crew. Four months since he first reluctantly donned the pack’s colors with every intent to use the strength of a few extra skilled Hunters to liberate a certain cache before slinking away quietly into the night. The slinking part though is...sort of on hold. But Cayde had heard enough rumors about a lanky human with his own Hunter pack for nearly a year before he ever stalked, and eventually became affiliated with, the crew.

   The black and red hood- the one that almost perfectly matches Cayde’s own save the difference in pattern layout that identifies individuals within the pack- sways each time the human bobs his head. “Well, I’d say you got about another decade before I learn your name…Rookie.”

   Cayde almost hates the way Andal’s lazy smile triggers whatever electronic bullshit in his Exo-warped brain makes him miss the amused curl of his own human lips. Andal takes a long pull of his drink before he leans onto the small table between them. He’s almost literally bumping elbows with Cayde and the ease of familiarity in that gesture banishes any niggling concern that Andal might actually mean his teasing remarks. Though the Exo sure as shootin’ wouldn’t be following a man- killing and dying over and over- if that man wasn’t a hell of a leader and real good guy to begin with.

  “Seriously though," the man whispers with a hint of pride, "great job today. Take out another target like you did this morning and I might even have to stop calling you Rookie. Start calling you Champ.”

   Cayde chuckles- ego easily smoothed by the simplest of praise.

   “But. For future reference?”

   It sounds like a question but that’s a tone Cayde has heard Andal direct toward every member of the pack at one time or other. Usually after someone royally fucked up. Now Cayde is apparently that someone. Robotic fingers clench just a little tighter around Cayde's glass as he rethinks the coincidence of finding himself alone with Andal. The pack does not live in fear of Andal Brask. Unless it’s a fear of disappointing him.

   “When you’re part of a mission with a team, it’s a good idea not to abandon them so you can rush in to bag a big kill.”

  Cayde tries not to squirm under the scrutiny of nearly black eyes as he defends his headlong rush at a Fallen Captain during an explosive mess of patrol early that morning. “Those Fallen are gonna have to come up with another leader and a lot more reinforcements if they want to take back that observatory. Cut off the head and the rest scatter. What I did _worked_.”

  “This time.” It is not an agreement so much as grudging concession and a warning in one. “But what if it'd been more than a Captain and a couple Vandals up there? What about the danger you left the rest of us in when you abandoned the back door and rushed ahead? We needed you downstairs fighting with the pack, Cayde. That Captain wasn't going anywhere but through us. We did alright today but we might have come away with losses much worse than Elaise’s ruined shotgun or Alin-8’s severed hand. Which they’re both still furious about, by the way. If you're going to run with the pack, you've got to learn to stay with the pack.”

   When Cayde stumbled back into the world of the living all those lost and jumbled years ago, he was alone with the exception of a dirty Ghost. He had continued that way for years by his own stubborn choice until Cayde eventually became very, very good at being alone. Falling in with Andal and the others had been quite unintentional- a means to an end that just…hadn’t reached its conclusion. Or else Cayde had allowed himself to conveniently forget that particular end goal as bigger, better, messier encounters and more intriguing mysteries came their way. Only in the last few months has Cayde found his induction into the small band as anything more than self-serving. He- dare he think it- _cares_ about the rag tag band. Not enough to say he’s sorry for the shotgun and the hand more than once. Those things are replaceable after all. And not enough to invite the remaining crew a second time to this grungy shed of a bar. It's their loss. But, yeah. He cares. A little. Pack cohesion is difficult for Cayde some days. Alright, pack cohesion is difficult for Cayde _most_ days. But Andal…Andal had accepted the invitation to a drink where the others spitefully declined. Never mind Brask's possible ulterior motive of having a conversation about corrective behavior. In a moment of brutal honesty, Cayde admits he doesn’t fancy the idea of rubbing elbows with any of the others the same way he appreciates Andal’s company. As far as Cayde is concerned, Andal _is_ the pack. And when Andal is involved, Cayde has a surprisingly easy time committing to things.

   “Fine. I'll warn you before I try any more solo heroics,” the Exo finally grumbles.

   “That’s very good, Cayde.”

   Only Andal could say something like that, with such sincerity, and make someone feel like a valued peer and not a scolded child.

   “You’re, uh…” Cayde thinks to abort the awkward knee-jerk reaction but the rest spills out, “…welcome.”

   The man chuckles, low and rich. Cayde’s internal temperature tics up a couple notches and he knocks back the rest of his drink and debates making an escape to see if the bartender has a half-decent coolant. But first, there’s something that’s been bothering him. “Andal?”

    “Mmm?” The Hunter replies through a sip of his booze with a voice already skewed by a satisfied smile.

     Dropping his voice carefully, Cayde readjusts in his seat. “Is it my imagination or is that guy behind me giving me some serious stink eye?”

     The change is instant. Andal’s grin fades and his chin dips downward defensively, eyes narrowing. He takes another measured sip as he glances around and then zeroes in over Cayde’s left shoulder.

   “That guy at your seven? Hunter in green hood?”

   This settlement is no stranger to Light-wielders as it serves as something of an informational hub for this half of the European Dead Zone but there’s something about this single hooded figure among the handful of warriors in the mostly human bar that makes Cayde feel uneasy.

   “That’s the one,” Cayde confirms without looking.

    “That what had your attention when I came back with our drinks?”

    “Yeah,” Cayde admits even though didn’t think he’d been so obvious. “You think he’s looking to start a fight? We already got another week before we can go back to The Hole.”

  This little town they are calling a temporary base has exactly two drinking establishments and a spectacular altercation between the pack’s most short-tempered member and a rather inebriated Titan passing through resulted in the pack’s banishment from one of those two. That’s fifty percent of the possible bars in one swoop. A bar equipped to serve Exos is not a given in the wilds and Cayde would hate to lose access to this one if he were forced to break another chair over another belligerent idiot’s head.

   After a calculating look, Andal smiles and hurriedly raises his glass in a poor attempt at hiding the expression. His drawl is full of amusement. “Naw. No fight. Looks like he just wants to offer you some candy.”

   That is not what Cayde was expecting. Failing comprehension, Cayde tilts his head slowly. “Candy?”

   “You don’t have to worry about me.” Andal swirls the remaining contents of his glass and pointedly looks away. A soft smirk never leaves his face. “You can go ahead if you want to. I’ll head back to the others, make sure they’re all cooled off and settled in.”

    “What?” Cayde balks. “Why are you leaving? And why the hell would I want candy from some guy drilling holes in the back of my head? Sugar messes with my filters anyway.”

   Andal’s glass hovers just above the table, the human himself is just as frozen with his mouth hanging in a slight gape. The man leans back in his chair, brows dancing a series of unvoiced thoughts, then he pitches forward- hood nearly dislodging- to stare Cayde right in the eye and whisper, “Shit. Not real candy. I mean 'candy from strangers.' _Candy."_

   The implied air quotes are doing nothing for Cayde.

   What follows is an awkward standoff of incredulous looks and pregnant silence before Andal's face falls and he sighs. "You don’t know what that means, do you?"

   The Exo stares blankly.

   “Sex, Cayde. He’s offering to have sex with you.”

   “What?!” Cayde twists in his seat to get a better look at this crazy Hunter who apparently does not want to start a bar brawl.

   “Don’t stare!” Andal hisses and tugs Cayde’s shoulder to bring the junior hunter back around. “You’re gonna scare him off.”

   They’re almost nose to nose, hoods acting as an impromptu barrier offering them a measure of privacy within the crowded room. Andal is only barely containing his laughter, a snort or chuckle occasionally slipping out as he dips his head and tries to reign himself in.

   “What the hell?” Cayde stutters in bewilderment. “What makes you think he’s propositioning me? He’s just sitting there.”

   A final titter slips past dark lips. The hand on Cayde’s shoulder squeezes. Damn electronic brain bullshit strikes again and Cayde is thankful he doesn’t have to breathe.

   "Didn't you see?" The human thumbs a tiny tear from the crinkled corner of his eye.

   "See what?" As pleasant as Andal's goofy laugh may be, Cayde's starting to get a little pissed. "What the hell are we talking about?"

   “Oh man. You really don't know. Alright, Rookie. Here’s how it works.”

   The hand leaves and Cayde reluctantly watches it rest on the table. They are still close, hunched and whispering over the tiny table.

   “A lot of Light-wielders are…mmm,” Andal seems to have trouble finding the right word and Cayde tracks every microscopic and uncertain twitch of the human’s face, “…a bit _free_ with the whole sex thing. Ya know, second chance at life…death around every corner…live your new life to its fullest…”

   The explanation stutters to a halt and Andal retreats with a slightly furrowed brow.

   “Well, nevermind the why.” The human tries to erase that with a suddenly flustered wave of his hand. “To each their own, I suppose. My point is that it’s not uncommon for two Guardians who cross in the wilds to…”

   For someone who had no problem saying ‘sex’ earlier, Andal seem to be struggling with the concept now.

   “I’m sorry,” Andal sighs with a remorseful shake of his head after a moment of silence. He nods behind Cayde. “I think he gave up while we were whispering.”

   Sure enough, when Cayde turns around, the green-hooded Hunter is nowhere to be seen. He does not feel much troubled by the loss. The Exo shrugs and turns back to their conversation. “So…candy from strangers. Is that code or something?”

   Andal is taken aback by the question, as if he'd expected the topic to end with the departure of the propositioning Guardian, but he answers quietly anyway. “Yeah. Kind of a joke but it’s pretty well recognized.”

   “How could you tell what he wanted?”

   “This.” Andal turns over his right hand on the table between them and opens it up into a loose cup. Then he curls his fingers slightly toward his palm twice in quick succession. “You didn’t see because you weren’t looking for it but he was making you an offer under his table.”

   Cayde turns over his own palm and mimics the move in a sort of morbid fascination. Static bursts from his throat in a snort. It looks exactly like the offering of an invisible piece of candy. “So that’s how you get laid in the wilds?”

   A warmth spreads across the bridge of Andal’s sharp nose to each cheek. The senior Hunter blinks and fidgets with the scarf around his neck as if it'd suddenly become a noose.

   “I’m fresh to the scene but I’m not naïve, Andal.” Now Cayde really misses human emotive capabilities because he would love to shoot the man his most crooked grin. His hand takes to drumming thoughtfully against the tabletop. "You think I don’t notice when one of the gang shimmies off without explanation? I just wasn’t sure how they were making arrangements so quietly.”

   Andal huffs and rakes a hand through the dark curls at his temple before readjusting his hood.  “Here I was worried I might be corrupting you with all this talk of candy.”

   “You’re a couple decades too late for that,” Cayde shrugs casually. “Am I accurately assuming you don’t mind members of the pack making candy runs?”

   The smirk is back but this time it’s twisted a little higher with scandalized disbelief. “I’m nobody’s keeper, Cayde. As long as everyone makes rendezvous on time, in able-bodied condition, their free time is their own.”

   Cayde nods in understanding. “And does the leader of the pack have a sweet tooth too?”

   That wipes the smile clean off Andal’s face.

   “Too personal?” He wasn’t looking to send Andal into shut down but now Cayde has to know.

   “Not everyone trusts strange candy,” Andal finally mummers and stares grumpily at the melting ice in his empty glass.

   That is fair. But Cayde is not quite a stranger.

   “What’s the signal if you accept an offer?”

   Andal’s eyes flick from his glass to the straight set of Cayde’s face.

   Cayde lays his cupped hand blatently atop the table and curls his fingers twice. Andal stares long and hard, dark brow pulled tight over even darker eyes. The implication that this is more than a demonstration is clearly written in conflicting twists of the senior Hunter’s face. Just as Cayde is beginning to think of withdrawing his hand, and his offer, Andal’s bare hand rests palm up on the table and slowly closes into a fist.

   Candy accepted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [visit me on tumblr? :D](https://fox-fic-and-ink.tumblr.com/)


End file.
